


Tell Me How to Fall in Love the Way You Want Me To

by saturdaychild29



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturdaychild29/pseuds/saturdaychild29
Summary: Oliver’s back in town because after retiring from Quidditch at the ripe old age of 31, he has absolutely no idea what to do with himself.  Hermione’s a famous author—having documented the exploits of the Golden Trio.  Recently, she’s embarked on a new life course.  But, even with a new position within the Ministry and some old friends to keep her grounded, something still feels like it’s missing. Add in some meddling Weasleys and nothing goes as planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone! Once again, I own nothing. The work title is from Ed Sheeran's song "Cold Coffee." All characters belong to JK Rowling. :-)

**Hermione**

“Ginny, this is what I’ve always wanted.  Plus, I’ve gotten a promotion at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“…Yeah, but you’re still working with Percy and he’s still a prat.”  Ginny fussed.  “Merlin, Hermione.  When’s the last time you did something _fun_?”

“Writing books about what happened in the years leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts was very therapeutic. Plus, it guarantees that journalists like Rita Skeeter can’t distort what really happened—and future Ministers can’t gloss over the past.”  Hermione smiled sadly.

The two were seated at the wizarding equivalent of a coffee shop.  It was a typical Saturday morning, but, for once, Hermione was regretting her decision to meet.  Instead of reacting positively to what Hermione thought was good news, Ginny had taken the opportunity to rehash their usual argument about Hermione’s life choices. 

Ginny was insistent that Hermione embrace Ginny’s brand of fun—and if she were to meet a guy, that would be a happy bonus.   According to Ginny, if Hermione didn’t stop with her current workload and take time to enjoy life, she was destined to snap and wind up alone in a house full of kneazles.  Hermione, quite frankly, didn’t see the problem.  She enjoyed her work and if she met someone along the way, great.  If not, there was nothing wrong with a life of solitude and the occasional kneazle.  Crookshanks had been a wonderful addition to her family, after all.

Hermione was brought back into the present by Ginny’s continued lecturing.

 “Yes, but that was ages ago.” Ginny huffed.  “Now, you’ve been at the Ministry for nearly a decade.  You’ve documented an important part of history, secured better treatment for house elves and significantly reformed the Wizarding World’s understanding of muggle technologies.  When’s the last time you did something for you and _only_ you?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  “I happen to enjoy my job.  Plus, in my spare time, I’m putting together a comprehensive study program for first-year muggleborn students at Hogwarts.  I know I could’ve used some additional guided practice before starting my studies.  I’m also thinking about designing a custom line of O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. preparation materials that include practice assignments and sample essays.  I could make them available online for students who are accustomed to the Internet, but offer a hard copy version for those who prefer it.”

Ginny nodded.  “Yes, yes, that’s all very good.”  She paused for a minute.  “Hermione, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you remember what it’s like to have a night that isn’t productive, but is actually enjoyable nonetheless?”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Ginny, I’ve told you a thousand times.  I don’t have any interest in a girls’ night.  You lot always get a bit rowdy and I’m too old for that scene.”

“Okay, Mrs. _Percy_ Weasley.  Going to have tea and crumpets with your cats instead?”  Ginny smirked.

Hermione threw her coffee stirrer at Ginny.  “You take that back.”

Ginny’s expression grew borderline evil.  “Only if you agree to go out with Luna and me tonight.”

“I’ve got plenty of work to do before Monday.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “There’s this really cool concept known as Sunday.  Agree to come with me tonight right now or I’ll tell Penelope that you’re gunning for her husband AND I’ll invite both Fleur and her and tell them we’re meeting at your place.”

“Penelope would never believe you.”  Hermione was unmoved.  “Besides, I like both of them—and so do you.” 

“Penelope’s on a paleo kick recently and has been lecturing anyone within earshot about the merits of clean eating.  She made Percy give up all forms of sweets and won’t even let the man have a sandwich.  Fleur’s pregnant with baby number four and Bill’s on assignment.”  Ginny finished.

Hermione winced.  “On second thought, I’ll meet you at your flat at 8:00 tonight.”

Ginny smiled, suddenly.  “See, now that’s much better.”

 Hermione sighed.  “Now I know why Harry’s constantly stealing my headache medicine.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes.  “You take that back!”

Hermione grinned and grabbed her things.  “Love you too, Gin, but I’ve got to go now since you’re all adamant about me going out tonight.  These Ministry reports won’t just write themselves.”

“Fine, fine.”  Ginny smiled.  “You’d better be at my place at eight or else.  Don’t forget I know where you live!  I’m not above frog-marching you downtown—and making Harry help me—even if you’re in your pajamas! Don’t think I won’t!”

“I know you will.” Hermione smiled back.

**Oliver**

Oliver sat at home in his rented flat in London.  After spending the last two seasons of his career overcoming injury after injury, he was finally forced to admit the truth.  It was time to retire.  He’d had a good run with Puddlemere United—even making it to team captain for the last seven years.  Considering the relatively short careers of many Quidditch professionals, this wasn’t entirely bad. 

Even so, Oliver had spent the majority of his life around Quidditch.  Now that it was well and truly over, he was at a loss.  He had decided to spend some time in London to collect his thoughts.  He’d only signed on for a six-month lease.  To him, it was better than staying at home any longer.  He’d spent the past summer at home getting conciliatory looks from his parents, coupled with endless questions of, “Now what?” and the occasional hopeful interjection from his mother of, “Well, at least now you have time for a relationship!” Honestly, Oliver needed a break.  

He looked around, realizing that he’d yet to unpack.  Constantly traveling with the team had meant that he hadn’t really amassed a lot by way of furniture—or anything else.  But, he decided that it wouldn’t kill him to unpack what little he did have.  The apartment was gloomy with its white walls and single fireplace.  Fortunately, he was on the ground floor.  Unfortunately, the apartment didn’t come with the greatest of views.

Speaking of fireplaces, Oliver was interrupted from his contemplation by a sharp bang as his fireplace magically queued up and two red-haired figures covered in soot stumbled in.

“Hiya, Ollie!”  One started.

“Heard you were in town!”  Continued the other.

Oliver smiled, shaking his head.  “I’ve been in town less than a day.  How’d you lot find me?”

Fred and George exchanged sneaky grins.  “Well, for one, we’ve significantly expanded our line of offerings at Wizards Wizardly Wheezes.”

“…and for another, we saw you get off the train earlier when we were waiting for a special delivery for our shop and followed you.”  Fred smirked.

“Seriously though, Oliver.  This place is awful.  Couldn’t you have at least picked somewhere a little fancier? This place makes Grimmauld Place seem like a resort.”

“Grimmauld Place?”  Oliver asked, not following.

“Nevermind.  So, London, eh?”  George asked conversationally.

“For now, anyway.  Sorry I failed to consider your housing preferences.”  Oliver noted dryly. “Listen, guys, not that I don’t appreciate the company and all, but what are you doing here?”  He asked tiredly.

“What, two blokes can’t visit their old friend just because?”  Fred asked innocently.

“Maybe, but not you two.”  Oliver eyed them suspiciously.

“Fine, fine.  We figured you might be down in the dumps about the whole early retirement thing.”  Fred started.

“And when we saw you earlier, it seemed like the perfect opportunity—and much easier than tracking you down by owl.”

“Especially our owls.”  George sighed sadly.  “Ron gave us one of Pig’s offspring.  That thing is even more hyperactive and idiotic than its predecessor.”

“The owl, not Ron.”  Fred clarified.

“Although he’s a bit questionable too, especially if you give him too much pepper-up potion and tell him it’s butterbeer.”  George noted.  “Poor Luna.  Felt a bit bad for her that time he decided to completely remodel their lawn into a replica of the Chudley Cannons’ pitch.  Then again, she didn’t seem to mind.  Said something about the nargles appreciating the new living space. Sweet girl.”  He shrugged.

“Strange girl.”  Fred finished.

Oliver rolled his eyes.  “I’m afraid to ask, but what exactly is your plan?”  He asked carefully.

“Well, I talked to Angelina about getting a babysitter for tonight.”  Fred started.

“Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t killed you yet.”  Oliver interrupted.  “Poor Andromeda and Theodora.”

Fred feigned offense.  “Poor them?  What about poor me?  I’m outnumbered in my own house!”

“It must be so tough being surrounded by women.”  Oliver laughed to himself, ignoring the devilish gleam in Fred’s eye.

“Says one of England’s most eligible bachelors.  Heard the ladies were feeling particularly bad for _poor, injured Oliver,_ ” Fred returned smugly.  “Anyway, I was thinking about getting the band back together, so to speak.  Perhaps a couple of pints of fire whiskey?”

Oliver instinctively grabbed his head.  “The last time I drank with you, you convinced me that I was a _quaffle_ and the only way to save myself was to drink more.”

“Us? Never!”  The twins chorused.

“Anyway, Angelina called Alicia, who called Katie and they’re all interested.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?”  Oliver asked.

“Who, Harry?”  Fred asked.  “He’s married to our sister.  Of course he’ll come! Merlin knows Ginny is exhausting!”

“I HEARD that Fred Weasley.”  A voice echoed from the fireplace.

“Twenty-six and still hasn’t mastered the art of subtle eavesdropping.”  Fred shook his head.

“A real shame.  We tried so hard with that one.”  George sighed.

Ginny popped out of the fireplace.  With the increasing number of Weasleys, Oliver was starting to feel like he was back at the Burrow and was about ten years younger.

Ginny continued to eye the twins.  “By the way, Fred, Angelina popped over and mentioned something about potty training for Theodora and it being your turn.”

Fred cringed.  “George, you’ve grown out your hair…”

“No!”  Ginny and George yelled at the same time.

“Alright, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist, either of you.  Really, George.  What happened to ‘respect your elders?’”

“You do remember that our dear sister taught Angelina the Bat Bogey hex, right?”

Fred eyed Ginny.  “I sent you a Hogwarts toilet seat once upon a time and _this_ is how you repay me?”

Ginny shrugged. 

“FRED WEASLEY!” Another familiar voice shouted through the fireplace.

“I’M COMING WOMAN!”  Fred grabbed some Floo powder from his pocket and was off.

Ginny looked at a slightly overwhelmed Oliver.  “Nice to see you, Oliver.  I’m sure Harry will be thrilled to know you’re in town. Where are you guys meeting?  I’ll pass along the message to Harry.”

“I was thinking about that new pub down the street, Galahad’s or something?  There’s a Cannons’ Game on tonight.  Nothing like watching those gits lose!”  George smiled.

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “You just like seeing Ron upset.”

“Only a little.”  George smiled.  “Tell Harry we’ll meet him there around 8:00 and to bring Ron.”

“Will do!”  Ginny turned to the fireplace and disappeared—presumably to relay the message.

“Wait—I never agreed to anything!”  Oliver said quickly, but it was too late.  Ginny was gone.

“Sorry, Mate.  Looks like you’re stuck with us this evening.” 

George didn’t look particularly sorry, Oliver noted.  “What if I’d had a date tonight?” He asked.

“You just got here.  The odds of your having plans are astonishingly low.”  George stated matter-of-factly.  “The odds of you having a date—no offense, Mate—even lower.”

“I thought I was among England’s most eligible bachelors.”  Oliver returned.

“Fred’s words, not mine.  A better phrase might be eligible, but inactive.  No offense, Wood, but have you even dated since making captain?”

Oliver eyed George annoyedly.  “You do realize that prefacing an offensive statement with ‘no offense’ doesn’t make it any less offensive, right?”

“Well, was I right?” George asked.

“Not the point.”  Oliver grumbled.

“Exactly the point.  You’re in a new era of self-discovery.  Might as well meet someone while you’re at it.  There’s more to life than Quidditch or pranking—or so Fred tells me.”

“So I’ve heard—at least Quidditch-wise.”  Oliver was starting to wonder if George was ever going to leave.

George didn’t appear to be going anywhere. “Didn’t you and Katie used to have a thing?” He started.

“We did.”  Oliver acknowledged.  “However, I don’t think Roger Davies would appreciate my hitting on his future wife.”

“Oh, er right.”  George looked mildly uncomfortable.  “Sorry. Well, I’ll leave you to your unpacking.  See you at 8:00 then?”  He asked hopefully.

Oliver sighed.  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic!”  George clasped his hands excitedly as he exited through the fireplace.

After what seemed like an eternity, Oliver was alone again—except this time, he was wondering what he’d gotten himself into.  Grudgingly, he began to unpack.  As he did, he started seriously considering unregistering his apartment’s fireplace from the Floo Network.  It was his first day of official retirement now that the new season had begun and he was already exhausted.

**Hermione**

Hermione sighed impatiently.  It was now 8:05 and as Ginny had requested, she had shown up promptly at 8:00.  She didn’t know why she had expected differently, but once again, Ginny was running around, frantically trying to choose an outfit and Luna wasn’t here yet.  She was seated on the couch and trying really hard not to let her impatience show.

Harry was conspicuously missing, but Ginny had rattled something off about him having to go into work unexpectedly or some such thing. It wasn’t entirely unsurprising.  Aurors didn’t always work 9-5, Monday through Friday.

Hermione was starting to wonder if Ginny had gotten lost in her walk-in closet when she heard a loud *ahem* above her.

“Yes?”  Hermione asked.

“You’re not honestly wearing _that_ , are you?”  Ginny asked, her face mirroring Hermione’s the first time Hagrid had offered her a rock cake.

Hermione looked down at her conservative blue dress and sensible heels.  “What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?  You could wear that to work!”  Ginny exclaimed.

“I think you look lovely, Hermione.”  An airy voice said.

Hermione turned.  “Thank you, Luna!” 

Ginny sighed.  “Yes, yes.  She looks lovely, but we’re not going to an office meeting!  We’re going out!”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “And your point?”

Ginny muttered a charm under her breath and Hermione noticed the dress neckline plunging slightly lower.

“Ginny!”  She was on the verge of muttering a counter to Ginny’s charm when Ginny stopped her.

“Luna and I may be both married, but you, dear ‘Mione are most assuredly single and ready to mingle! Tonight, Luna and I are going to be your wing women!”

“Luna?”  Hermione looked at her other friend hopefully.

Luna smiled dreamily.  “It’ll be fun.”

**Oliver**

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s match where the Chudley Cannons take on the Balleycastle Bats.”

Oliver rolled his eyes as he watched Ron preemptively slump on his barstool.  The Bats were second in the league.  The Cannons were in last place.

Fred and George sat to the right of Ron. Fred patted Ron’s shoulder in what initially appeared to be a conciliatory manner.  “Let’s just cross our fingers and hope for the best, ay?”

“Shove off, Fred.”

“Atta boy!”  George leaned over and clapped Ron’s shoulder for good measure.

On George’s right, Harry sighed and quietly sipped his butterbeer.  Already, Oliver was starting to regret his seating choice.   He turned to his left, where Katie and Angelina were busily discussing Katie’s upcoming nuptials with the newly-arrived Alicia Spinnet.

“I’m telling you, Katie.  Get it in writing!  I have to practically beg Fred to take the garbage out now and again.”  Angelina was saying.  “Although, I guess that’s not as bad as the time that he transfigured the old pizza boxes into tap-dancing turtles.  All I’m saying is be careful what you ask for.”

Out of conversation options, Oliver redirected his attention to one of the televisions and settled for watching what was sure to be a thorough rout.  The wizarding world had recently decided that muggles might’ve been onto something with live broadcasts of sporting events.  So, television had slowly caught on.  Even so, few wizards owned personal televisions.

Oliver watched as a Balleycastle chaser scored yet another goal.  It was about two hours into the game and things were not looking good for the Chudley Cannons.   Next to him, Ron was nursing what appeared to be his sixth firewhiskey and alternating between cursing at the television and cursing at his brothers.

On the other side, the girls were still immersed in gossip.  This time, Oliver gathered that Alicia was considering an office romance of sorts.

He eyed Fred who was busily sneaking a mysterious concoction into Ron’s cheese fries while Ron was occupied with yet another missed opportunity for the Cannons’ seeker to catch the snitch. 

“Well, as much fun as this has been, I think I’m going to call it an early night.  I’ve got loads of unpacking to do tomorrow.” Oliver yawned.

“Not so fast!” Fred challenged, his mission now complete.  “The game’s not even over.”

“The game’s over.”  Ron acknowledged miserably.

A strange buzzing interrupted the conversation.  Oliver looked over to find Harry busily typing into some small, illuminated contraption.  “I know you’re tired, Oliver.  I just got a text from Ginny though.  She’s headed over here soon.  Apparently, the dance club she was planning to hit up was a bust.  Any chance you could wait a few minutes before you leave?”  Harry asked.

Oliver didn’t know what a text was, but he was acquainted with Ginny’s temper—not directly, mind you.  He’d heard plenty of stories from his Beaters.  So, he simply nodded and fought back an eye roll. 

Ron was about to sample his cheese fries—yet another muggle invention this pub had appropriated—when Oliver nudged him.  “You may not want to eat that.”  He whispered. Unfortunately, Oliver’s well-intentioned warning fell on deaf—or, at least very drunk—ears.  Fortunately, even drunk, Ron somehow managed to eat around whatever Fred had mixed in.

Oliver watched as George and Fred exchanged very frustrated glances.

“KATIE!”  A loud yell erupted near the pub’s entrance.  Several other patrons turned around and glared at the three girls who had just entered.  Oliver felt himself sinking into his seat.  Harry had not mentioned anything about a drunk Ginny or that she was bringing friends. 

Ginny immediately raced to Katie and Angelina, giving each girl a hearty hug.  Suddenly, Oliver was envious of Alicia, who he realized must have snuck out at some point.

Next, it was his turn.  “Hi, Ginny-“  he started politely, but was immediately cut off as Ginny engulfed him in an equally giant hug.  Perhaps limited concern for personal space was genetic.

“Hiya Ollie, you remember Luna and Hermione, right?”

Luna smiled happily and Hermione managed a weak wave.  Oliver noticed that Hermione was wearing a very un-Hermione like dress.  It wasn’t necessarily short, but it was a lot more revealing that what he remembered the young witch wearing back in school.  He wondered if that was Ginny’s doing.  He didn’t have long to wonder as he turned his attention back to his red-haired captor.  

“Luna and I were Hermione’s wing women tonight!  Doesn’t she look fantastic?”  Ginny asked.

At this, Hermione looked extremely uncomfortable, particularly as she met Oliver’s gaze.  “Ginny,” she whispered.  “I don’t think Oliver cares.”

Ginny was unfazed—but mostly very drunk.  “Sure he does!  Every guy with eyes does.  Have you seen you?  Honestly.”  She looked at everyone else and proceeded in a drunk whisper.  “You know, we had to leave the club because of Flint.  Do you believe this?  Marcus Flint tried to hit on ‘Mione. Gross.”  Ginny shuddered for emphasis.  Meanwhile, Hermione was looking more and more like she wanted to crawl into a hole.

Oliver felt himself sympathizing.  He nodded, unable to do much else as Ginny was still holding him captive.  He was hoping that the more he agreed, the closer he’d be to dislodging a very drunk redhead and subsequently restoring his circulation.

Ron picked this moment to slide drunkenly off his barstool.  As he did, he accidentally knocked Ginny off balance.  Oliver was strangely appreciative.

“You git!”  Ginny eyed her brother dangerously. 

Luna wrinkled her brow.  “Ron?”  She asked carefully.

“Mmmf?”  The floor responded. 

“Maybe it’s time to go home.  There are a lot of snuffleducts near you.  Too long around them and you end up sleeping in uncomfortable places.” She mused.

Fred and George hoisted their younger brother up and threw him toward Luna.  “Yep! Up you go Ronniekins!”  They looked somewhat apologetic.  “Sorry, Luna.  He’s had a bit to drink and management has already given us a few warnings this month.”

Luna simply nodded.  “Thanks for having me, Ginny.  I’ll see you all later.”  Moments later, she and her husband were gone.

Oliver was thankful that sidealong apparition existed.  Otherwise, Ron was very likely to have splinched himself.  He cringed, just thinking about the prospect.

Oliver was interrupted from his musings once again by a loud exclamation.  Ginny had just noticed Ron’s abandoned treasure.  “Ooh, cheese fries!”  Ginny’s eyes lit in excitement.  She grabbed one from the plate before either of the twins could stop her.

“Ginny, I don’t think-” Oliver began, but it was too late.  He clapped his palm against his forehead.  This evening was turning more and more ridiculous.  Then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised.  If there was one thing he had learned from his overlapping years with the Weasley twins it was that life with those two was never dull—even when you desperately wanted it to be.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on who you were—Harry took that moment to usher his wife out of the bar.  So, no one found out if whatever the twins had put in the fries had its desired effect.  Fred and George were annoyed, but Oliver was very relieved.  With Ginny gone, he felt patrons gradually shift to whatever they had been doing before the girls’ loud entrance.

Hermione looked around uncertainly, realizing that in a span of less than 15 minutes, her self-proclaimed wing women had abandoned her.  She sighed and plopped down next to Angelina.  “Remind me to never trust Ginny.”  She muttered.

Angelina laughed. “I think you could apply that across the whole Weasley family.”  At this, she looked pointedly at her husband who was currently feigning innocence.  “Yes, even you, Fred.” She sighed and faced Hermione.  “I hate to do this, because I know you just got here and all, but Fred and I should probably be getting back soon to relieve the babysitter.”

“It’s okay.”  Hermione smiled.

“Right you are Hermione!”  George encouraged.  “Katie, Ollie and I will keep you company! Right guys?”

At this, it was Katie’s turn to look apologetic.  “Erm, actually, I sort of promised Roger’s mom that I’d get breakfast with her bright and early tomorrow morning.  So, I should probably head out too if I want any hope of getting up for that.  Sorry guys.” 

“That’s okay.”  Oliver smiled at Katie.  “I think that’s the universe’s way of telling us that it’s time to call it a night.  Right, _George_?”  He looked at the remaining redhead, who looked to be plotting something.   

Automatically, Oliver was nervous because he’d seen that expression before and rarely did it mean good news for him.  

“Alright, alright.”  George acknowledged—but the gleam in his eye didn’t diminish.  He waved away his brother, Angelina and Katie.  “You guys go on ahead.  I’ve got to square up my tab.”  He looked at Oliver.  “Have you already paid?”

Oliver nodded. He’d paid about thirty minutes ago, when he’d tried to make it an early night the first time.

George shrugged, not really surprised.  Then, as if an afterthought, he looked at Oliver and Hermione.  “Sorry to do this, but would you guys mind waiting for a minute?”

Oliver and Hermione exchanged puzzled glances but agreed to humor him.

“Great, I’ll just head over to the front.  I won’t be a minute!”  He left, cheerily whistling as he brushed past the two.  Toward the other side of the bar, where the register was.

Meanwhile, Oliver and Hermione just kind of stared at one another awkwardly.

“He’s up to something.”  Hermione finally said.

“Probably.”  Oliver acknowledged. “At least it’s good to see some things never change.”  Oliver shook his head as the two looked to where George had been a moment before.  Silence resumed.

Hermione looked uncomfortable. “Sorry about your early retirement.”  She finally said, before looking anywhere but at Oliver. Had his eyes always been so brown?  She wondered to herself.

Oliver shrugged.  “It is what it is, I suppose.”

He looked at her, deciding it best to change the subject. “I heard you’ve been quite busy since graduating.”

Hermione nodded, ignoring her thoughts.  Boy crazy was Ginny’s domain, not hers.  “Not as busy as you.  You’ve been across Europe with your Quidditch schedule over the last few years especially.”  She said, just a bit enviously.  She bit her lip as if realizing her mistake.

Oliver laughed, albeit a bit forced. “Yep.  Back in the good of days.”  He said wryly.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Oliver laughed again, this time a bit more genuine.  “Now you sound like Hagrid.”

Hermione gave a very undignified snort.

Oliver found himself slightly warming to the nervous witch.  “No, really.  I’d rather you actually say things than not.  Everyone has been walking on eggshells around me since I retired.  Not being able to play is only the third worst thing in the world. I could be dead. Or worse, I could be Flint.” 

Oliver smirked as Hermione burst out laughing. 

“Speaking of Flint,” Oliver continued, “sorry to hear about your experience earlier.  It sounds like he hasn’t improved with age.”

“Nope.  Still the same old slimy git. I hexed him pretty well though.  His teeth are even worse now, if you can believe that’s possible.” 

Oliver shook his head.  “I really can’t.”  He finally said.

“Speaking of gits, where is George?” Hermione asked.

Oliver had been wondering the same thing.  He eyed Hermione.  “Let’s go find out!”

He had a sinking feeling that he and Hermione were somehow the latest victims to a Weasley prank.  What that prank was, Oliver didn’t know.

The two headed to the front of Galahad’s where the barman was serving a few lingering customers.  As Oliver had feared, George was nowhere in sight.

Worse, the barman looked confused when Hermione asked after George. “Him?  He left about fifteen minutes ago.”

Oliver and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.

“Well, I think it’s about time we do the same.”  Oliver said finally.

Hermione nodded the same as the two stepped out of the bar.  She reached into her robes and her face grew increasingly perplexed.  “That’s funny…”  Hermione started.

“What’s wrong?”  Oliver asked.

Hermione shook her head.  “I can’t find my wand.  It must have fallen out during the whole Ron fiasco.”  She finally decided.

“Do you want me to help you look?”  Oliver offered.  The witch had spent the last several hours with drunk Ginny and had gotten groped by Flint.  Really, helping her look for her wand was the least he could do.

The two headed back to their old seats, when Oliver decided that he’d probably better make sure he had _his_ wand.

“Oh no.” He groaned suddenly. 

Hermione eyed him worriedly.  “What’s wrong?”

Oliver sighed.  “I don’t think you lost your wand Hermione.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “I’m going to kill him.”

**Ginny**

Ginny was having similar murderous thoughts.  Harry dutifully held his wife’s hair back as she alternated between ranting about her brothers’ incessant pranking and throwing up miniature Balleycastle bats.  At present, the bathroom was overrun with tiny, scarlets bats all screeching, “Barny, we’re barmy!”

“Honestly.”  Ginny muttered before another wave of nausea struck.  “Can’t you do something?”  Ginny asked desperately once the latest round had passed. 

Harry sighed.  He had tried vanishing, transfiguring and all other methods of bat removal that he knew of, but, if anything, their numbers had only grown.  Aurors were trained in a lot of counter-curse resolution methods and Harry found himself growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to resolve a simple prank.  Perhaps the Ministry should dedicate a training session on overcoming the advanced pranksters that were Fred and George Weasley. 

“Should I get George?”  Harry finally asked.  He was unwilling to admit defeat, but desperate times called for desperate methods.  He would’ve asked Fred, but with Angelina and two small children to potentially wake up, he decided George was the safer option.

It turned out that he needn’t have bothered.

“Looking for me?”  A voice called from the front room of the apartment that Harry and Ginny shared.

“GEORGE WEASLEY, YOU GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”  Ginny shouted before the nausea overtook her again.

George looked appropriately chastened.  “Sorry, Ginny.  Drink this.”  He produced a small vial containing a sickly green liquid and handed it to his furious sister.

Ginny made a face but drank it quickly.  Instantly, her face resumed its normal shades and the bats disappeared.

“Wonderful!  It works! I can’t wait to tell Fred!”  George smiled proudly.

Ginny narrowed her eyes.  “You mean there was a chance that it wouldn’t?”  As venom dripped from her words, Harry decided that now was a good time to make sure that the evening wards were up.

“Let’s not focus on that…”  George started.

Fortunately for him, Ginny seemed to consider something else.  “Wait, what happened at Galahad’s?  Are people still there? I can’t believe we just left Hermione.  Did she make it home okay?”

“Don’t worry.”  George grinned cheekily.  “She’s probably still there, looking for this.”  He held up two wands.  One was painfully familiar. 

“George, you didn’t!”

“George didn’t what?”  Harry seemed to surmise that the immediate danger had passed. He poked his head back in the bathroom where Ginny was once again glaring at her older brother.

“It would seem that George has stolen Hermione’s wand.”  Ginny started.  “I can only assume that the other one is Oliver’s?”  Ginny asked slowly.

Harry groaned and headed back toward the living room.  George and Ginny followed.  “Do I even want to know?”  Harry asked as he sat on the couch.

George made himself comfortable in an armchair closest to the fire.  “Well.” He started, as though it was obvious.  “Oliver’s obviously lonely.  Gin says that Hermione doesn’t get out much…”

“That doesn’t mean you should try to set them up!”  Ginny screeched.  “Just because they’re both single doesn’t mean they’re automatically meant to be together.  Honestly. If ‘single’ was the only necessary stipulation…”  She shot George a pointed look.

George shrugged.  “Hermione’s nice, but more of a sister type.

Ginny’s ears grew even more pink.  “And you think Oliver—who is _older_ _than you_ and doesn’t know Hermione _half as well_ is a better candidate?!”

George ignored her.  Besides,” he shot her a confused look.  “I thought you wanted us to try to set them up.  If not, why all the, ‘doesn’t Hermione look nice, Oliver?’”

Ginny held her face in her hands.  “I can’t be held accountable for the things I say while drunk.”  She groaned as she realized that the bat solution had also expedited her transition to sobriety. Her previous drunken state was replaced by a throbbing headache.

George seemed to take that as his cue to leave.  “Well anyway, I must be off!  Glad you’re feeling better sis!”  He smiled before grabbing some Floo powder and darting into the flames.

Harry shook his head.  “Do you want me to go back to Galahad’s?”  He asked. 

“I’m coming with you.”  Ginny said firmly.

**Hermione and Oliver**

“I cannot _believe_ him.”  She seethed. 

Oliver suddenly had a vague recollection that Hermione could be just as formidable as Ginny was rumored to be when angry.  He seemed to remember walking into the Common Room one night just as Hermione was laying into Ron about some perceived transgression.

 “I can.”  He shook his head.  “How about this? I’ll walk you home tonight and then we’ll pay a well-deserved visit to the Weasleys tomorrow.”

Hermione sighed.  “Okay.” She huffed.

The two had been walking for a few minutes when Hermione suddenly turned to Oliver.  “I’m sure this wasn’t what you had in mind when you agreed to go out tonight.”

Oliver shrugged.  “I’m still not entirely sure I had any choice in the matter.”

“Weasleys are very persistent.”  Hermione acknowledged.

“Don’t I know it.” Oliver groaned.  “I don’t think George would’ve ever left my apartment if I hadn’t agreed to watch the game tonight.  That man needs hobby.”

Hermione nodded her agreement.  “Ginny too. She’s been trying to get me to go out for ages. She threatened frog-marching if I didn’t for Heaven’s sake.”

Suddenly, realization dawned on them.  “You don’t think…”  Hermione started uncertainly.

Oliver’s face hardened.  “I absolutely do think.”

“I can’t believe they tried to set us up!”  Hermione was indignant.  “I guess that would explain Ginny’s comments earlier.”  She sighed. “As though I can’t find someone on my own—no offense, Oliver.”  She quickly clarified.

Oliver was too busy with his own ranting to notice the accidental slight immediately.  When he did, he just shrugged.  “If it helps, apparently, they thought the same of me.  World Famous Quidditch Star.  Can’t find a girlfriend.  Just because I’ve been busy doesn’t mean I’m incapable of finding a date!”  He pronounced indignantly.

“Exactly!”  Hermione agreed, equally upset.  With that, she realized that they were standing outside her apartment complex.  “Well, this is me.”  She finished lamely.  “Thanks again for walking me home, Oliver.”

“Don’t mention it.”  Oliver turned to go.  He didn’t get far, however, when an invisible force propelled him backwards, knocking him hard into Hermione. The two stumbled into the grass in front of Hermione’s building.

“Hermione!”  Oliver said, at once worried and turning to look at the young witch.  “I’m so sorry.”

Hermione dusted herself off and accepted Oliver’s hand as he pulled her up.  “No harm done.  Besides, I highly doubt it was your fault.”  She shook her head. “I guess this explains why George stole our wands.”

“You might have competition for the honors of killing George.”  Oliver hissed through gritted teeth. “Any idea how to undo this?”

Hermione sighed.  “Not without my wand, no.  Wandless magic requires a lot more precision.  Without knowing the incantation used, we could risk making the situation worse.”

Oliver groaned.  “Great.”

Hermione shook her head. “Do you think George is still up?  I know where he lives.”

“He’d better be.”  Oliver said dangerously. “Lead the way.”

Normally, Hermione would have apparated.  Without wands, they would be forced to use the Floo Network.  George’s apartment may not be connected to the Floo Network—something about angry victims of purchased pranks paying too many undue visits—but the Leaky Cauldron was.  Conveniently, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was just down the road.

**Harry**

“Sorry, you must’ve just missed them.”  The barman was saying.  “Wait a minute,” he started, noticing Ginny’s red hair.  “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Fred and George Weasley would you?” 

“They’re my older brothers.”  Ginny responded. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.  They’re not likely to be back.  We close in an hour.”  With that, the barman went back to tidying up the counter.

Ginny and Harry walked back outside.  “Now what?”  Ginny asked in a huff.

“Well, if they’ve figured out their wands are missing, they’re probably on their way to visit your esteemed brother.  It’s not exactly a secret that he lives above the joke shop.”  Harry started.

Ginny and Harry apparated to George’s quickly.   They arrived just in time to dodge a rock that came soaring in through the open window above the joke shop.

“We know you’re in there George!”  A frazzled Hermione was yelling. 

Ginny bravely poked her head out.  “Shh. You’ll wake the whole neighborhood.  George isn’t here.  Just a minute, we’ll let you in.”

This appeared to momentarily calm the harried witch.

“We just got here.  What has my brother done now?”  Ginny asked as she ushered Oliver and Hermione inside before they could wake up half of the block.

“Oh, like you don’t know?”  Hermione’s eyes glinted as she rushed toward Ginny.

Harry stepped between his wife and a raging Hermione.  He needn’t have worried.  With Oliver now a good five feet away, Harry watched as Hermione catapulted backwards into the Scots wizard.

Neither seemed surprised.  Hermione looked a bit ashamed.  “Sorry.”  She whispered to Oliver.

Oliver winced slightly as he picked himself up, but made no other comment.

Ginny paused.  “Oh no.”  She paled.  “Honestly, Hermione I had no idea. 

“Can you fix this?”  Both Oliver and Hermione eyed Ginny and Harry hopefully.

“We can try?”  Harry asked tentatively.

“Where’s George, anyway?”  Hermione asked.

“Probably anticipating this exact situation.”  Oliver surmised icily.   He scanned the room, looking for any indication of where the red-headed bachelor had disappeared to.

Sure enough, there was a note on the counter.

**_Hi Hermione and Oliver,_ **

**_Hope you guys are having fun bonding!  I’ve gone for a much-needed vacation, but I’ll be back soon!  Try not to destroy the place too much while I’m gone?_ **

**_Cheers,_ **

**_George_ **

Harry sighed. This was not going to be a fun evening.  Or was it early morning now?  He checked his watch. 1 am.  Great.  He scratched the back of his neck.  “Well, I guess we can start with the simple reversal spells.”

“That would be a good idea.”  Hermione muttered.

Two hours later and Oliver and Hermione were still stuck, Ginny was snoring on a couch and Harry was out of ideas.  After the most straightforward solutions had faltered, they had practically torn the apartment apart, looking for any indication of the spell George might have used to no avail.

“Guys, I’m really sorry, but I have no idea how to fix this.”  Harry said apologetically.  He faltered under the dual murderous gazes of Hermione and Oliver.  “If George doesn’t turn up, we can always owl Bill in the morning? I know he’s away on assignment, but he might have some ideas we haven’t tried yet.”

This did little to appease Hermione.  However, Oliver’s glare lessened slightly. “No, I’m sorry Harry.  This isn’t your fault.  I’ll owl Fred in the morning too.  In my experience, neither twin does much without the other’s knowledge.  He finished.

Harry and Hermione nodded their assent.

“Maybe I could try your wand?” Hermione asked. 

Harry was skeptical.  “You know as well as I do that my wand won’t work as well for you.”  Even so, he handed it over.

“Yet another reason why George saw fit to steal mine.”  She muttered angrily. “What are we going to do in the meantime?”  She threw up her hands in frustration when none of her spells had any effect. Then again, if she was being honest, she didn’t really expect them to.

Harry treaded carefully.  “Well, I’ve got to get Ginny home.”  He eyed her sleeping form.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should call it a night?”  Oliver asked.

Hermione looked between Harry and Oliver incredulously.  “You can’t be serious.”

Oliver sighed.  “Well, it doesn’t seem like either of us are getting unstuck anytime soon and Harry can’t stay here forever.  He’s caught in the middle of this same as you and me.  We might as well try to get some sleep and let Harry and Ginny get home.” 

He surveyed the fully furnished living room.  “It looks like George won’t be using these couches tonight. Harry, after you take Ginny back, can you apparate us together to each of our places so we can grab what we need? If-” He glanced warily at Hermione.  “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

Hermione collapsed on the couch across from the one where Ginny was sleeping on.  “I don’t see what else we _can_ do.”  She sighed, defeated for the moment.

~

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck like this?”  Hermione asked.  The two had moved the couches to form an L so that neither inadvertently got further from the other than was allowed.  They’d empirically reaffirmed that the magic number was in fact five feet.

“Until George gets it in his head to get back here and undo whatever it is he’s done.”  Oliver sighed.  “Fortunately, I don’t have to be anywhere for the next couple of days.”

With this, Hermione’s stomach sank.  “I have work on Monday!”  She panicked.  “What if we don’t figure it out by then?”  She asked, horrified.

Oliver fought the urge to laugh.  Hermione was kind of cute when she was stressing out.  Not that he’d ever tell _her_ that.  He liked living, thank you very much. “Like I said. I don’t have anything scheduled for the next couple of days.”  He shot a small grin at the still-hyperventilating Hermione in hopes of cheering her up. “Besides, I’m not the worst company.  Or, so I’ve been told.”  He added.

“No, no.  It’s not that.”  Hermione amended quickly.  “It’s just Percy and his whole set of rules and…”  Hermione rambled on when she was interrupted by laughter.

“No.”  Oliver started.  “Percy is your boss. _Percy Weasley?_ ”  He guffawed.

He looked over to see Hermione shooting him a very unamused look.  “What?”  She asked.

“Sorry.”  Oliver tried to control his laughter and Hermione tried to pretend that his laugh wasn’t strangely endearing. 

“It’s just for all his pontificating, Percy can’t find his way out of a paper bag sometimes. Back in school, he was forever losing his Prefect badge.  Sure, Fred and George stole it occasionally, but more often, he just lost it and blamed them to save face.” Oliver paused. “I’m surprised the Ministry put him in charge of something as important as Magical Law.”

Hermione looked stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered.  “How did you know where I worked?”

Oliver smiled.  “Fred was griping about Percy while we were out earlier. Said something about, ‘well at least he’s got Hermione there to straighten him out.’”

Hermione blushed. “That was nice of him to say.”

Oliver shrugged.  “Well, what was the rumor going around? Brightest witch of your year, if I remember correctly.  Somehow, I doubt that’s changed.”

Hermione felt her face growing redder and was secretly glad that it was dark.  “I don’t know about all that.”

Oliver continued.  “Plus, if the rumors are true, you, Ron and Harry spearheaded the fight against Voldemort.  That’s not exactly a small feat.” 

Hermione shrugged.  “You were at the Final Battle too.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have led the fight—at least not alone.” Oliver admitted.  “I’m honestly surprised you’re working at the Ministry after everything that’s happened.”  He mused aloud.

“What about you?”  She interjected, deciding she didn’t want to go any further down that path.  “From back-up keeper to team captain? That’s pretty impressive.”

Oliver shrugged.  “Just lucky, I guess.”

“No.”  Hermione scoffed.  “Lucky is me not falling off my broom during first-year flying lessons.  Harry and Ron saw to it that I attended every Gryffindor match.  I also ended up watching a few Puddlemere games.”  She added shyly.  “I don’t know a lot about Quidditch, but it seems you’ve got talent.”

“Had.”  Oliver corrected, suddenly feeling a bit more closed off.

“Have.”  Hermione corrected. “Retirement doesn’t extinguish talent.”

Oliver decided it was too late to be having this conversation.  “Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Goodnight.”  The brunette witch returned, as she snuggled under her blankets.

~

“You know, I bet you could apply to a coaching position.”  Hermione said suddenly.  It was Sunday morning and the two had raided George’s kitchen for any supplies lying around.  Oliver wasn’t super familiar with Muggle technologies.  So, Hermione was frying up eggs and bacon for the two of them while he watched.

“The twins weren’t kidding.  You are stubborn.”  Oliver laughed. He was starting to regret telling her that he had no idea what he was going to do now that his career was over.   Sure, he had enough saved to live comfortably, but he’d never been good about sitting still in life.

“Speaking of stubborn,” he continued.  “I heard an interesting rumor a while back.  Something about you being offered any position you wanted at the Ministry.  Yet, here you are working under Percy of all people.”

Hermione nearly dropped the frying pan. “Where’d you hear that?”  She asked.

Oliver shrugged noncommittally.  “George and Fred may have mentioned during one of their many anti-Percy tirades.  Granted, I didn’t know that he was your boss at the time.  I thought you were colleagues or something.”

Hermione set the frying pan on the stove.  “Of course they did.”  She rolled her eyes as she turned to face him.  “It’s true that Shacklebot asked where I wanted to work in the Ministry after I went back to Hogwarts and finished my last year.  However, I didn’t want anyone to think I got my position because of favoritism or past achievements.  I have enough enemies as it is.”

Hermione caught Oliver staring off into space.  “What?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He said quickly.

“You’re a worse liar than Harry.”  Hermione admonished.

“I was just thinking that you don’t have anything to prove.  Everyone knows you’re the brightest witch the Ministry is likely to see.”

“Don’t I though?”  Hermione asked bitterly.

Oliver sighed. Before the most recent war, he’d admittedly taken his own pureblood status for granted.  He couldn’t imagine that being muggleborn was particularly easy in that environment.

“Let me rephrase.  You shouldn’t have to.  The people close to you would never think you were unqualified to do whatever it is you want to do.  Admittedly, I don’t know you that well, but I do know Percy.  And, if he’s anything like I remember, I can’t imagine you want to spend the rest of your life working for him.”

Hermione looked thoughtful.  “Maybe so, but I feel like it’s something I have to do, you know?”  She changed the subject back to Oliver’s career plight.   “So, do you think you’ll end up applying to be an assistant coach somewhere?”

Oliver pretended to briefly consider.  “No, I think I’ll take up painting.”  He said with a straight face.

Hermione raised her eyebrow curiously.  “You paint?”

Oliver laughed. “Not at all.”

Hermione laughed with him. “I guess you don’t have to decide right away.”

“Nope.  I’d say the more pressing issue is finding George and making him see reason.” Oliver smiled.

“Bill owled earlier.  He has a couple of suggestions for what we might try, but can’t make it out in person.”

“Well, let’s start there.  Fred hasn’t responded yet—and I highly doubt that he will.” Oliver rolled his eyes.  “Weasleys.”  He muttered.

They were finishing up their breakfast when they heard two voices downstairs.  One was decidedly angrier than the other.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, FRED WEASLEY.  LEAVING OUR FRIENDS WITHOUT WANDS AND STUCK TOGETHER.  FIND THEM AND FIX IT THIS INSTANT!”

“I’m working on it. I’m working on it.” Another voice grumbled.  “Harry said they were staying in George’s apartment.”

Oliver and Hermione exchanged smirks.  So Fred had gotten Oliver’s owl—by way of Angelina.

Angelina’s tone softened when the door to George’s apartment opened and Oliver and Hermione came down to greet her.

“I am so sorry you guys.”  Angelina rushed to hug them both.

Still grumbling, Fred muttered the counter-curse. “There.  Happy?”  He eyed his wife peevishly.

“Maybe.”  Angelina returned.  “Let’s see if it worked first.” 

Hermione and Oliver carefully walked away from each other. Sure enough, the spell seemed to be lifted.

“Thanks, Angie.”  Oliver smiled gratefully.

“Don’t thank her. I did the work.”  Fred’s tone remained cranky.

“Only because you had a hand in casting it in the first place.”  Angelina sighed exasperatedly.  “Remind me why I married you again?”

“Because I’m devilishly handsome and you love me?”  Fred waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Angelina rolled her eyes.  “Whatever, ‘devilishly handsome.’ Let’s go home.”  She turned to Oliver and Hermione.  “We’ll have to catch up soon, under better circumstances.” 

Hermione and Oliver nodded their agreements.  It was only after Angelina and Fred disappeared with successive pops that Hermione and Oliver realized that they still were without wands.

Suddenly, Hermione smacked herself.  “I’m so stupid! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this!”  She practically shouted as two tried to figure out where George might’ve disappeared to.

“Accio wand!”  She shouted.  Initially, she hadn’t thought it had worked, but apparently, she wasn’t as rusty with her wandless magic as she’d initially thought.  Moments later, her wand was resting comfortably in her hand.

“So much for ‘brightest witch.’” Hermione muttered.

Oliver shook his head.  “None of us thought of it.” He started but was interrupted by a voice behind him. 

“It’s about time!”  George grinned at Hermione.  “Your wand, Mr. Wood?”  He regally presented Oliver with his stolen wand.

Oliver stored it safely in his robes before glaring at George.  “And, just what makes you think that the two of us won’t hex you into next week?”

George shrugged. “Wishful thinking, I suppose.”  He winked.  “Then again, can’t be too certain.”  He disappeared with another pop.

“Weasleys.” Hermione and Oliver shook their heads at the same time.   They trudged upstairs and retrieved the things they had brought for the overnight stay.  “Well,” They started simultaneously.

“Yeah.”  Oliver looked a bit nervous.  “Er, since I’ve only just moved back—and I’m not sure when I’ll be on speaking terms with anyone with the surname Weasley again—would you want to get dinner this evening?”

Hermione tried to look unfazed.  “Well, I _did_ finish all my Ministry reports yesterday so I could go out in the first place.” 

“So, that’s a yes, then?”  Oliver asked, trying to disguise his sudden hope.

She grew thoughtful.  “There is a nice Italian place down the street from my apartment that I’ve been meaning to try.”

“That sounds good. Before we go, I’d say we work up an appetite.”  Oliver started.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”  Hermione grinned devilishly.

Oliver smirked.  “I’d say George’s apartment could do with some redecorating while he’s gone.”

Giggling, Hermione nodded.  They decided to leave the living room intact.  However, George’s room was not nearly as fortunate.  One George Weasley was going to have his work cut out for him whenever he finally returned. 

Hermione nodded approvingly as the bedroom door swung haphazardly from its hinges.

Oliver smiled.  “You know, I see what you mean about the muggle approach being more satisfying.”

Hermione laughed.  “See you tonight.”  She disappeared with a pop.

~

**Oliver**

Oliver had been very grateful to _finally_ relax in his own bed.  He’d spent the last few hours asleep.  Now that he was awake, he was surveying the living room, trying to decide the best arrangement for his remaining furniture.  This was turning out to be more challenging than he thought.  His mum was right.  He really had no eye for decoration.

He thought back to destroying George’s room.  It had been very out-of-character for him—but oddly therapeutic.  He’d never really addressed his frustrations about having to retire so early.  He had spent the summer trying to pretend he was fine and apparently fooling no one.  

“Earth to Oliver.”  Hermione waved a braceleted hand in front of his face. 

Oliver jumped.  He looked around the apartment.  The sky had grown dark in his distraction.

“Sorry!”  Hermione said quickly.  “I didn’t mean to just pop in.”  She bit her lip nervously.  “It’s just we never agreed on a time.  Ginny gave me your address.”  She said in a rush.

“It’s okay.”  Oliver realized that he hadn’t made much progress in unpacking and was suddenly embarrassed.  He followed Hermione’s gaze.  “Er, I just moved in.  So, I’ve still got plenty of unpacking to do.”

Hermione shrugged.  “No judgement from me.  I’m not entirely sure that I ever completely unpacked from my last move.  Work being busy and all.”  She finished lamely as she adjusted her oversized jumper which hung loosely over a pair of dark-washed jeans.

“Oh!”  Hermione brightened before Oliver could respond.  “Dinner tonight is on Fred and George.”  She smirked as she produced a healthy number of Galleons.

“And that’s why I can never hate those two.”  Oliver met Hermione’s gaze about the time he realized that he’d never bothered to change out of yesterday’s clothes.

“Er, would you mind giving me a few minutes?  I should probably shower…”  Oliver trailed off.

“Of course not.” Hermione smiled, before growing slightly uncertain. “Or, you know, if you’re too tired tonight, we don’t have to go out.”

Oliver looked at the brunette witch.  She’d grown up a lot in the last few years.  He wondered why he hadn’t noticed.  “No,” he finally said with a smile.  “If Fred and George are paying for dinner, we’d better take full advantage, don’t you think?” He raised an eyebrow.

Hermione huffed.  “Well, they did magically stick us together.”

“That they did.” Oliver agreed.

“If you want, I could unpack some of your stuff while you get ready?”  Hermione offered helpfully.

“You don’t have to do that.”  Oliver started.  “Really, I’m not even sure what’s in half of those boxes. But if you _insist_ , I suppose I wouldn’t say no.”

~

About 30 minutes later, Oliver reappeared in a button up shirt and dark pants.  As he surveyed his living room, he found it completely different. The white walls were painted a deep burgundy and a photo of the entire Gryffindor team hung over the fireplace.  The single couch was magically enlarged and, with its puffy pillows, looked a lot more inviting than it had earlier.  To the left of the couch, his kitchen table was pressed against the wall, under a window.  More impressively, the majority of boxes that had taken over his kitchen were gone.

“Wow.”  He breathed. “I should go shower more often.” He joked.

“Well, I’ve heard that’s basic good hygiene.  Do they not teach Quidditch players that?’  Hermione joked back.  “No wonder Fred and George were worried about your dating status.”

“Ha. Ha.”  Oliver groaned. “Seriously, though.  How’d you do that?”

Hermione smirked. “Magic.  You really like it?”

“Yep.”  Oliver nodded, pulling a blue sweater over his head and grabbing his wand as the two headed toward the door.  “You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas for the rest of my apartment, would you?”  He asked teasingly. 

“Well, I haven’t seen the rest of it.” Hemione returned evenly.

Oliver winked.  “I’m sure that could be arranged in time.”

Hermione reddened.  “So, Italian still good?”  She managed.

“Sounds great.”  Oliver smiled cheekily. He held out his hand and allowed Hermione to practically pull him down the street.

Neither of them would ever admit it to the Weasleys, but perhaps Fred and George had been onto something after all.

**George**

“So, did it work?”  George asked his twin. 

“Shh.” Fred waved him off. “I’m not sure yet.  We really need to improve the quality of our Extendable Ears.”

“Well, you already spelled them to survive flames without Floo powder  _and_ to be transparent.  I’d said that’s pretty impressive.”  George said. “Are they going out on a date?”  He continued.

“Not sure.” Fred started. “Although, if you’re asking if we’re getting our Galleons back, I’d say we’re out-of-luck.”

They faced one another from the couch in George’s apartment and shook hands.

“Good work, Gred.”

“Good work, Forge.”


End file.
